


loving you, loving him, loving her

by elliptical



Series: the most self-indulgent vampire AU of all time [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bipolar Ronan Lynch, Emotional Intimacy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gansey Has Anxiety, Gansey Loves Adam Parrish, Healthy Communication, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation, Vampire Adam Parrish, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliptical/pseuds/elliptical
Summary: He wanted to know if Adam was bothered by the predatory nature of the thing, or the dependence on others, or the way his thoughts were affected, or the messiness and general lack of decorum in blood drinking.  Gansey could argue with any of those specifics, but he couldn’t convince Adam that his nature was something miraculous if Adam was determined not to believe it.“Did Ronan ever tell you how he convinced me to bite him?” Adam asked suddenly.“No.”  Gansey hadn’t asked.  He was sure Ronan wouldn’t tell him even if he had.“Did you ever wonder?”





	loving you, loving him, loving her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [muchlessvermillion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchlessvermillion/gifts).

> here i am, with more vampire bullshit  
once again, i intended this to be a quick 2k oneshot and it got away from me  
many feelings here. lots of adam deserving the entire world

Gansey was still asleep when Blue nudged his arm and said, “You didn’t tell me Adam and Ronan were coming over tonight.”

“Mmrnghph?” He rolled over on the bare mattress, fumbling for the wireframes beside the pillow. When ten seconds of dutiful searching didn’t reveal their location, Blue helpfully pressed them into his hand. Gansey sat up, rubbing his eyes before putting his glasses on, squinting at the moonlight streaming through the window.

“Adam and Ronan,” Blue repeated, helpfully, for his sleep-clogged brain.

Chronic insomnia meant that Gansey didn’t have a very regular sleep schedule, and the other three members of his close family tended not to wake him when he managed unconsciousness. His snatched naps usually happened during the day, since it made sense to be nocturnal when dating two vampires and a sharklike human who loved prowling the 3 AM streets. 

But Blue had been staying over at Monmouth more often lately, her small body pressed tightly against him on the mattress, her fingers loosely twined in his. In a sequence of events that might be correlated, Gansey had also been sleeping better lately.

“They’re not coming over,” he said, looking around like Adam and Ronan might have materialized in the cavernous space of the warehouse. “It’s Friday -- Saturday?” He had zero sense of how much time had passed or whether it was past midnight. “They’re at the Barns.”

Blue was sitting on the edge of the mattress, her head angled toward him, her hair wild around her face without all the clips. She was so beautiful that Gansey felt it in his ribs, an ache that curled around his lungs and stomach and heart alike. But she tensed at his words, her moonlit brow furrowing, and said, “I’ll be right back.”

She was gone before he could put two and two together. Granted, it didn’t take him that long. It was just that Blue was a vampire, and therefore possessed the consistent ability to move faster than Gansey’s brain could work. Gansey was up a second after the door closed. He pulled a jacket over his pajamas and shoved his shoes on, his footsteps thudding as he raced down the steps. _Oh no._

Because Adam was the other of the two vampires he was dating, and Ronan was the human, and they were supposed to be at the Barns. Because this was the time each week when Adam bit Ronan, an arrangement they had both refused to explain beyond acknowledgement of its existence. And Adam was not irresponsible, but he was perpetually hungry, and Ronan was more fragile than anyone ever appreciated.

If they were here, something was wrong.

His heart in his throat, Gansey opened the door and scanned the weed-cracked parking lot of Monmouth Manufacturing. Ronan’s BMW was parked neatly beside the Camaro, the engine off. Adam was in the driver’s seat. Blue had the passenger side door open and an arm braced against the roof, apparently involved in conversation. Whatever was going on, her posture telegraphed annoyance much more than concern. Gansey took a breath to still his shaking hands.

Logically, he knew there was no reason to be afraid for Adam or Ronan’s immediate safety. Adam had the sense to drive Ronan to the hospital if necessary, and Ronan had the sense not to get in a car with a feral vampire. It was just that Gansey was afraid all the time.

Blue stooped down and reached into the car. A second later, Gansey heard Ronan’s voice loud and clear, carrying across the lot. _“Put me down, maggot.”_

Blue was also blessed by vampire strength. When they’d first known each other, she had employed it upon Ronan to prove a point more than once. Gansey wasn’t sure what point she was proving now, as she hoisted Ronan over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Given that Ronan was six-foot-seven and built like a linebacker, and that Blue barely cleared five feet when she was standing straight to be taller, the image was incredible. Gansey immediately committed it to memory for safekeeping.

“I can kill you so many ways,” Ronan threatened, but he wasn’t struggling. If anything, he was draped across her back like a blanket or a scarf or an indignant cat.

“Tell it to someone who cares,” Blue replied, kicking the door of the BMW closed.

Gansey loved them both so much it hurt.

“He’s fine,” Blue called as she carried Ronan toward Gansey and the entrance of the building. “He’s an idiot, but he’s fine. His feet are cut up.”

There’d be time to find out what had happened. Gansey couldn’t help another rush of fondness: for Blue, for Ronan, for the friendship that had blossomed between them. Because when Blue had used her strength around Ronan at first, it had been to injure him. Now here she was, carrying him to prevent further injury. And there he was, putting up with the manhandling with what was, for him, enormous grace.

But there was a fourth member of their little quartet, and he was still in the driver’s seat of the BMW. “Adam?” Gansey asked.

Blue didn’t pause her walking, but there was a hesitation before she answered. “I think he’s fine.” It did not have the confidence that her reassurance about Ronan had. “Go talk to him.”

Gansey stepped aside to let Blue and her grumbling burden pass him. If you’d told him a year ago that the four of them would settle like this, he would have laughed. A year ago, he hadn’t been able to leave Ronan and Blue in the same room alone for fear they’d kill each other. Now, it didn’t even occur to him to worry. He trusted Ronan in Blue’s capable hands just as much as his own.

Ronan was not an easy thing to manage, when he needed managing. Gansey always found himself worrying that other people would hurt Ronan or be hurt by him. To have family who could offer the same support that Gansey did, take some of the stress off Gansey’s shoulders, be there for Ronan on the rare occasions that Gansey couldn't, it was -- like suddenly being able to breathe when he hadn't known he was drowning.

But Adam. Gansey didn’t know what had happened, but he did know that if Adam had hurt Ronan, his headspace would be a ruin. He also knew that anything Adam might have done would be accidental. As Gansey made his way to the BMW, he set the correct persona firmly into place. Concerned, open, inquiring, but not judgmental or scared. And not pitying. Never pitying. Even concern was a dangerous thing. But pretending not to care at all would tread too close to lying, and Gansey had instituted a no-lying policy where Adam and Ronan and Blue were concerned.

He slid into the passenger seat, did a quick and assessing scan without trying to seem like he was looking. Adam saw right through him, or maybe had the words queued up already. “I didn’t do it,” he said.

Gansey nodded, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip. Adam wasn’t always easy to read. He packed his emotions away from everyone including himself, and the more upset he was, the more remote he became. Right now, he didn’t look like a statue, and he didn’t look like a stranger inhabited his body. These were good signs, technically, even if his brow was furrowed and he was staring at the steering wheel instead of meeting Gansey’s eyes.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Ronan’s just having a time.” Adam shrugged one shoulder, a jerky movement. “Of the manic variety.”

“Oh.” It had been a while since Ronan had had a manic episode bad enough to hurt him, but that didn’t mean it was a surprise. Bipolar was something that could be treated, not cured. Gansey had spent three feverish days researching the condition after Ronan’s first hospitalization and shiny new diagnosis. He knew every medication Ronan had ever taken, the ones that worked and the ones that didn’t. The ones that interacted with alcohol. The ones with side effects bad enough to make Ronan snarl and swear off treatment entirely and need a week of gentle but firm coaxing to keep his doctor’s appointments. Gansey knew that Ronan’s brain occasionally drenched itself in gasoline and lit a match, and that the best thing he could do was be there to control the flame.

Gansey wasn’t sure how much Adam knew, though. The diagnosis, yes. The clinical criteria and what it meant. Adam certainly knew what Ronan was like in the grips of depression. But Gansey thought this might be the first time Adam had dealt with the other side of things.

“How badly hurt is he?” Gansey asked.

Adam shrugged again. “He walked over some glass. Blue said she’ll make sure no shards are stuck. She also thinks his hand is broken, but not bad. She can fix it.”

Gansey studied Adam’s profile in the blue light filtering through the windshield. Adam had always been lovely, capturing Gansey’s attention the second he’d first laid eyes on him. The curve of his cheekbones, the pale eyelashes, the curl of his hair over his forehead. He wasn’t conventionally beautiful, and there was something about him that betrayed the inhumanness, an air that Gansey would term ethereal and most people termed eerie.

But Adam’s appearance had changed in small, subtle ways over the past few months. He no longer had shadows under his eyes so deep they resembled bruises. His skin had lost the grayish pallor of the dying. He held himself more loosely, like he no longer needed to keep a constant watch on his own body. The arrangement with Ronan had been so good for him, whether he wanted to discuss it with Gansey or not.

Gansey’s heart hurt.

He reached out. Physical intimacy with Adam was always a careful thing. Adam didn’t like to talk about how he’d been hurt (and Gansey flinched from memories of the times he’d tried to make him, caring too much and not understanding Adam’s needs and wounding in the process), but Gansey knew that touch was charged for him. To be touched by another person was to be vulnerable, open for attack. And Adam’s hunger complicated things. When he was starved, touch was a torture rather than a blessing, something that made Adam’s fear rise and his control slip.

So he always asked. If not with words, then with actions. And Adam always answered, if not with words, then with actions. Gansey held his hand over Adam’s as a question, and Adam turned his palm up rather than pulling away. With a small exhale, Gansey pressed his skin against Adam’s, lacing their fingers together.

“How badly did he hurt you?” he asked.

Adam’s fingers tightened, more reflex than reassurance. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Okay,” Gansey said. “What was it like?”

“Not like that.”

Gansey didn’t push. In the past, in the process of learning Adam and Adam learning him, he _had_ pushed. But now he knew better. Adam’s nonanswers weren’t an avoidance the same way Ronan’s were. They were just an indication that he needed a minute to put his thoughts together like he was forming a scientific hypothesis. Adam hated offering anything unconsidered. If Adam wanted to explain, he would; if he didn’t, Gansey would sit here with him until he was ready to go inside.

Gansey wasn’t worried that Ronan had hurt Adam physically. It wasn’t that he couldn’t; Ronan was more qualified than most humans to hurt vampires on account of coming from a vampire hunting family. Gansey had to admit he was slightly biased in that he didn’t believe Ronan would ever hurt Adam, manic or not, impulse control or not, angry or not. There were plenty of people Ronan delighted in hurting, but Adam wasn’t one of them.

But more than that, Adam wouldn’t be _here_ if Ronan had hurt him physically. Not in a dramatic, tragic way. The disappearance would be much more quiet. Adam would safely extricate himself from the situation, call Gansey to come help Ronan, and then vanish back to his church apartment or whatever area of the town he felt like haunting. Adam withdrew when he was hurt just like any frightened, solitary creature. So the fact that he was here at all was a good sign.

Gansey didn’t doubt that Ronan could have left emotional wounds, though. He’d certainly been at the pointed edge of Ronan’s blade before.

“I’m not hurt,” Adam said finally, and cleared his throat. “I just thought for a second maybe I did the wrong thing, coming here.”

Gansey frowned. “You didn’t.” This, he was sure of. There was no circumstance in which Ronan could be harmed by Gansey’s proximity, or so he hoped.

“No, I -- I know, it’s not--” Adam blew out a frustrated breath, his accent curling around the edges of his voice. “I know this is the best place for him. I just feel like it shouldn’t be.” Then, as Gansey flinched, “No, no, I’m not saying this right. It’s not about you. I just feel like -- like you and Blue shouldn’t be the only ones who can help. Like I should know, too, and I don’t. If the four of us are going to be… I should know.”

Oh. That was unexpected. Gansey felt a rush of new emotion that he couldn’t quite name. It clogged his throat, threatening to choke his voice, so he swallowed before speaking.

“I’ll show you,” he said, bringing Adam’s clasped hand to his mouth and kissing each of his knuckles, one by one, soft, gentle.

Adam drew in a sharp breath and nodded. Gansey held his hand against his mouth, closing his eyes. 

It was possible that Adam was just referring to his proximity to Ronan through the magic of Ronan-and-Gansey. The four of them were an intertangled constellation, but not all the pieces strung together the same way. What Gansey had with Ronan was different from what he had with Blue, and both of those things were different from what he had with Adam, even if each bond was romantic. What Blue and Adam had was something private with an enormous, tender shape that Gansey couldn’t fully make out. Blue and Ronan, as far as Gansey was aware, didn’t have any physical attraction or romance between them, but somewhere along the way they had stopped being ferocious toward each other and started being ferocious for each other.

Ronan and Adam, though, had placed distance between themselves. The vampire-versus-hunter dichotomy was just a piece of it. They were both such impossible people that the idea of common ground seemed absurd. Though Gansey knew that they occasionally hung out prior to their blood-drinking arrangement, he’d assumed that he and Blue were the link between their strings. That neither would have any particular care for the other if their shared love didn’t force them to orbit the same spaces.

_If the four of us are going to be..._ However Adam had intended to end the sentence, Gansey’s heart was too full for his chest. The four of them. They were Gansey’s family, the people he’d chosen, the ones he wanted to be close to for the rest of his life. But it was still sometimes hard to remember that they’d chosen him, too, and that they’d chosen each other.

It was possible that Adam and Ronan hadn’t chosen each other, that theirs was still a friendship built of necessity and proximity. That Adam just wanted to learn because Ronan mattered to Gansey, and Adam wanted to preserve Ronan like he wanted to preserve everything Gansey loved. But Gansey didn’t think that was it. Gansey thought that maybe, just maybe, Adam wanted to learn because he cared about Ronan for Ronan's sake. No strings attached.

Adam didn’t tend to talk about what he had with Blue -- not because it was a secret, but because he was a private person. The same was true of the weeks he’d been spending with Ronan. Ronan was no help on the detail-divulging front, either. Gansey just had theories, subtext, methodical academic annotations.

He knew asking might annoy Adam, but he did anyway. “Is it a -- a thing? With you and him, like… with us?” 

That was such an inadequate way of phrasing the question, but if he tried to get the vocabulary perfect, they’d be here all night. Gansey-and-Adam was different from Blue-and-Adam, and those relationships would be different from Ronan-and-Adam no matter what. He had to trust that Adam would understand what he was asking regardless. It wasn't just about romance; whether their bond was romantic or not didn't concern Gansey. Thinking about Ronan and Adam caring about each other gave him the same buoyant feeling he got seeing Ronan and Blue care about each other. The people he loved loving one another and receiving love in return, mirrors reflecting, infinite security.

Adam let out a long, long breath. When Gansey opened his eyes, Adam was watching him, his gaze guarded and sharp. At first, Gansey was worried he’d stepped over Adam's defensive line. But when Adam found no disapproval in his face, he relaxed, his mouth tugging down at the corners.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “I just don’t want him hurt, okay?”

Gansey lowered their twined hands from his mouth so that he could lean in, pressing a kiss to Adam’s temple. This too was a question, answered when Adam tilted toward him. There was too much love inside him; he was going to burn up from the inside out.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” Gansey said.

“He’s a shithead,” Adam replied.

Gansey laughed. “Two things can be true.”

Adam shifted, unlacing their fingers and gently nudging Gansey’s face away. Gansey withdrew into the personal bubble of the passenger seat without question. Back when they’d still been learning each other, Adam’s sudden need for space would send him down obsessive, spiraling paths. Wondering if he’d said something wrong, done something wrong, hurt Adam, missed a cue, ruined everything.

But worrying didn’t help Adam. “It makes me feel like shit,” Adam had told him, flat, when they’d fought about it. “It makes me feel like I should let you touch me when I don’t want it just so you’ll get the kicked-puppy look off your face. Quit it.”

Adam needing space was not always a reaction to something Gansey had done. Even when it was, the least helpful thing Gansey could do was make the situation about himself. So he looked Adam over with the clinical gaze he’d perfected for assessing Adam’s needs. Adam had turned away from him, shifting his body and resting his head against the window, his mouth half-open.

Gansey understood the problem immediately.

“You’re hungry,” he said.

Adam didn’t deny it. “Ronan was already messed up when I got to the Barns. I wasn’t gonna bite him.”

This show of responsibility didn’t surprise Gansey, but it did rekindle the warmth inside him. “Well, you can’t just not eat.”

“I know.” This _did_ surprise Gansey; he wasn’t used to Adam being less than stubborn about blood. “I’ll go to the butcher shop tomorrow.”

Gansey had researched vampires exhaustively. He knew the folklore, the facts, the fiction. He'd seen nearly every vampire movie, inaccurate documentary, and uncomfortably accurate documentary. He’d endlessly quizzed Adam and Blue and Blue’s family and any other vampire he came in contact with about a litany of subjects. He had, in pursuit of said research, offended every one of these people at least once, most more than once.

So he knew what vampires needed, and he knew a butcher shop wouldn’t cut it.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Packaged animal blood could sustain a vampire provided it wasn’t more than a few days old. The fresher, the better. Adam could manage a week without lasting consequences. But he’d be hungry and malnourished, which Gansey knew because that was how Adam had sustained himself for God only knew how long prior to the arrangement with Ronan. Gansey thought about Adam pale and sick, and his stomach curdled unpleasantly. He couldn’t say it. Adam would kill him for the pity.

(He hadn’t known. Blue hadn’t either. It was Ronan who’d told them, the three of them splayed on the floor of Monmouth while Adam slept the day away at St. Agnes. Adam had let them believe he was getting human blood from _somewhere,_ that his illness was a natural and untreatable disposition. Had they known, they would have insisted on helping, which was exactly why Adam hadn’t told them. “Shit’s fucked,” Ronan had said with a shrug. “But I got him. He’s fine.”)

Gansey said, “There is blood in my body.”

“That’s the worst pickup line you’ve ever used.”

“It’s an objective statement of fact.”

“You need the blood in your body. That’s another fact.”

“Not all of it. Blood drives would be very grim affairs were that the case.”

“Ronan needs you.”

Gansey didn’t doubt this, but he wasn’t needed right this second. If he was, Blue would have come to get him. He could settle Ronan after they were done here. For now, it was difficult to suppress the longing. His body ached to move toward Adam’s like a star inching closer to a black hole, but he remained in the passenger seat personal space bubble. Adam still wasn’t looking at him, the curve of his throat and jaw outlined sharp against the glass of the window. He was trying not to let his fangs slip out, Gansey knew, or to let Gansey see his hunger-blown pupils. To keep Gansey from thinking of him as different, like inhuman meant monstrous, like he wasn’t one of the most beautiful people Gansey had ever seen.

You_ need me,_ he thought, but he didn’t say it. Adam didn’t need him, really. Adam didn’t need any of them. He’d been independent his entire life, and he’d continue being independent whether he was part of their family or not. Adam didn’t _want_ to need him. To need someone was to give them power over you, and Adam wouldn’t compromise his autonomy.

Gansey did not want to own him. He didn’t want to threaten or hurt him, and God knew he didn’t want to keep Adam if Adam didn’t want to be kept. What Gansey wanted was at once simpler and more complicated. He wanted to care for Adam. He wanted to give Adam things that would make his life easier, bring him joy, allow him comfort. He wanted Adam’s life to be better for having Gansey in it, not in any way that needed repaying, but in the way of loved ones supporting each other.

The complicated part of this was Adam himself. Gansey never knew when kindness would accidentally wound instead of heal.

_Ronan needs you._ “Blue’s got him,” Gansey said. The use of her real name instead of Jane was intentional, and he was pleased by the twitch in Adam’s cheek that indicated he’d noticed. _The four of us. Our real selves. She’s got him._

“I’ll feel like an asshole,” Adam said, “keeping you from him.”

This wasn’t the flavor of protest Gansey was expecting. He was much better at handling it than prideful stubbornness. “Would biting me put me out of commission for the night?”

“It shouldn’t.” Adam turned his head more fully so Gansey couldn’t see his mouth, but Gansey still heard the soft hiss that meant his fangs were out. Adam hid it with the same dedication and shame that he curbed his Southern accent. “But,” he added, “Ronan’s like twice your size.”

“I’m five-ten,” Gansey said, offended.

“Yeah, case in point.”

Adam was barely taller than Gansey, and this could be a very compelling argument if Gansey didn’t want to get off track. “As long as I’m conscious, I can still help Ronan. So you’re not keeping me from him any more than I’m being kept from him having a normal conversation out here.”

Adam’s hand jerked slightly in his lap, a reflexive flinch. Gansey could have kicked himself. “Adam,” he said sternly, “if Jane couldn’t handle him, she’d be out here dragging me inside already. She does not suffer in silence.”

Gansey couldn’t see Adam’s mouth, but he did see the small shake of Adam’s shoulders and hear the smile in his voice when he said, “No, she doesn’t.”

Gansey relaxed. “So if that’s all that’s bothering you, it’s a non-issue. I’ll drink juice afterward.”

Adam was quiet. Gansey waited.

“I don’t want to be like this,” Adam said finally. The confession was so abrupt, Gansey wasn’t sure he’d meant to say it aloud at all.

“Like what?”

_“This.”_ The hiss was more apparent, an answer in itself.

It wasn’t a secret that Adam hated being a vampire. His hangups on the subject were legendary. But the answer didn’t satisfy Gansey. He wanted to know more, in the manner of an obsessed scholar who couldn’t rest until they’d unraveled the pieces making something work. He and Adam were alike that way, sometimes, except that Adam preferred to unravel the technical while Gansey picked apart the building blocks of people.

He wanted to know if Adam was bothered by the predatory nature of the thing, or the dependence on others, or the way his thoughts were affected, or the messiness and general lack of decorum in blood drinking. Gansey could argue with any of those specifics, but he couldn’t convince Adam that his nature was something miraculous if Adam was determined not to believe it.

“Did Ronan ever tell you how he convinced me to bite him?” Adam asked suddenly.

“No.” Gansey hadn’t asked. He was sure Ronan wouldn’t tell him even if he had.

“Did you ever wonder?”

Obsessively. He wondered now, still, present tense. The development had puzzled him and Blue alike. (He’d asked her if she was confused, desperate to know whether he’d missed something that was obvious to everyone else, yet again.) Ronan and Adam were both prideful, spiteful, and easily-angered creatures. Ronan’s bias against vampires made him the last person Gansey had expected to consent to being a donor. And Adam had, up until that point, flatly refused to bite either of them aside from the one time he’d indulged Gansey’s research.

“I don’t have any theories,” Gansey admitted. To say he hadn’t thought about it would be a lie, but his brain always got stuck like a truck uselessly spinning wheels in the mud.

Gansey didn't know what he was expecting, but Adam’s next words knocked the breath out of him. “You’re the best of all of us, you know.”

“I--” Gansey’s face felt hot. He fumbled for something to say. Compliments weren’t something he was used to from any of them. Certainly he knew that Adam _liked_ him; they were dating, after all, and Adam didn’t tolerate anything he didn’t want for long. But the idea that Adam saw something in him that was worthwhile, good, admirable -- Gansey had not considered that maybe Adam could look at him the same way he looked at Adam. Sometimes Gansey felt like all he ever did was hurt Adam, and Ronan, and Blue, every good thing he ever tried to do paling in comparison to the mountain of damage and wreckage.

Adam waited. Gansey shut his mouth. Polite acceptance was his default for compliments, but he didn’t want to rely on an insincere script here. Rejecting the statement was also out, even though he wanted to, because he could not fathom the thought process that had led Adam to this conclusion.

“I do not see how that ties into the previous conversation,” he said finally. Not romantic, and not acceptance, but it was the best he could manage.

“You give away too much.” Adam’s fingers curled against his thigh, and Gansey longed to hold his hand again, kiss his ear, kiss his mouth. “And you don’t take anything back.”

“I don’t want anything back.”

“Everyone wants something, Gansey.”

This was dangerous territory, the kind of conversation that could lead to a fight. But Adam didn’t sound angry or tense. If there was any strain in his voice, it was just from the hunger. Gansey was certain that lying would do more harm than good. He sometimes found himself trying to construct a persona around what Adam expected him to be, because if he met Adam’s expectations then Adam could stop looking for double meanings in everything. But he didn’t want to do that, really. The irony of it all was that Adam always looked hardest for lies when Gansey was at his most sincere.

“I’ve already told you what I want,” he said.

Adam breathed, slow and calm. Gansey couldn’t see much of his face, but in the sliver of reflection in the window, he could tell that Adam’s eyes were closed. His lashes made ribbon shadows on his cheek.

“Tell me again.”

There were a lot of answers. Adam always struggled to believe him because Gansey's wants tended to focus on others. But what Adam didn’t understand was that the wants benefited Gansey, too. To know his loved ones were hurt or unhappy or in danger was to be in pain, constantly, forever. Sleepless nights, panic attacks, shaking hands, dry sobbing in bathrooms. A worry that ate him up inside, like one day he’d just fall over dead, and when they cut him open on the autopsy table there’d be nothing left of his heart or his lungs or his gut.

_I want you safe. I want you happy. I want you sheltered. I want you supported. I want you healthy._

“I want,” Gansey said, “for you never to be afraid the way I am.”

He was worried, for a moment, that Adam would take that to mean something it didn’t. He could see the shape of the fight already. _As if you’ve ever had anything to be afraid of._

But Adam’s body language didn’t change. His shoulders didn’t tense, his hands didn’t curl into fists. There was just the tiniest ripple of his jaw.

“I don’t think I can give you that,” he murmured.

Gansey tried to keep his voice even, but it shook regardless. “Then I want to take the things you’re afraid of and make them go away.”

“It’s a long list.”

“I want,” Gansey continued, “for you to have enough blood that you’re not hungry this week, and I don’t know how soon Ronan will be okay to donate. I want you to have somewhere safe to go when you’re hungry and Ronan isn’t an option. I want you not to worry about where your next meal is coming from. I want you not to be in pain, because if you’re in pain then I will not be able to sleep. I like being able to sleep. The action and the repayment are simultaneous. It’s symbiotic, not parasitic. You and I both get things we need.”

_Trust me, Adam. Trust me, please. Please. Please._

Adam’s fingertips curled, and his voice came out soft. “I never mean to hurt you.”

Gansey matched his pitch. “I know. I never mean to hurt you either.”

“Maybe we should stop that. Hurting each other, I mean.”

Gansey laughed, a little winded. “I’d love that.”

“I need you to tell me if I mess up. I won’t do this again if you lie to me. I need to be able to believe you.” Adam so rarely voiced needs that the strain of it had him digging his fingers into his leg, the words bitten out fast like he had to keep them from sticking in his throat. Boundaries were easy, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and ‘stop,’ but needs were another beast entirely.

Gansey understood, in an intellectual way if not an empathetic one. He couldn’t empathize with something he’d never experienced. But he understood the hypervigilance of Adam’s mind without needing the particulars of Adam’s past. Adam had never lived in a world where kindness was uncomplicated and good. His instincts told him that there was always a concealed weapon, and the longer it took to feel out the shape of it, the more tense he got. At least if you knew the weapon ahead of time, you could plan how to control the damage.

That was how Adam lived; that was how he survived. A series of scrapes and punctures and bruises and knife wounds and bullets traded for things he deemed worth the pain. Every time Gansey gave him something good, Adam braced himself for the harm that came with it. How could Gansey ever make him see that he wanted the opposite of harm when Adam didn’t believe such a thing was possible?

The truth was, he couldn’t. He had no control over how Adam perceived him or the world at large. The trust had to come from Adam himself. _I need to be able to believe you._ That, Gansey could do. If he wanted to prove he wouldn’t hurt Adam, all he needed was to be truthful. Adam was the one doing the heavy lifting, uncurling his muscles and unbracing from his defensive position and giving Gansey the power to hurt him and trusting that he wouldn’t.

Gansey loved him so _fucking_ much.

“I won’t lie to you,” he promised. “May I hold your hand?”

Adam stopped digging his fingers into his thigh, turned his palm upward instead.

Gansey took Adam’s rough hand in both of his own, smoothing his thumbs over Adam’s palm. Adam shuddered. “It’s okay,” Gansey murmured, not even sure what he was referring to. All of it, any of it. Adam’s hunger, the fragility between them, the need, the trust, the touch. “It’s okay.”

Adam turned to him. His head was ducked, but he was letting Gansey see his teeth, his eyes, the want in his face. His voice came out quiet, controlled. “Lean the seat back.”

Gansey did. He immediately returned his hands to Adam’s.

“Hang on.” Adam unbuckled and slid over the gearshift until he was settled between Gansey’s legs, facing him, a move that he somehow made both smooth and graceful. Gansey was pretty sure if he attempted the same thing, he’d end up splayed on his face with a backache and one shoe half-off, which made Adam’s accomplishment that much more impressive. Also, attractive.

Gansey laid back on the seat. It was a compromising position, so he didn’t blame Adam for the quick glance he threw out the window, checking to be sure no one was nearby. The Monmouth parking lot was deserted. Gansey wasn’t worried about being caught by anyone but Blue, and the consequences of _that_ would just involve being made fun of until he died. He could manage.

“It feels kind of indecent to bite you in Ronan’s car,” Adam said, but he didn’t look displeased about it. Gansey knew the hunger on his face was just for blood and not something else; it did things to his stomach regardless.

“I would argue,” Gansey offered, his voice embarrassingly close to a wheeze, “that it’s kind of hot to bite me in Ronan’s car.”

Adam laughed, unselfconscious, his sharp teeth glittering. Gansey wanted to live in the moment forever. He committed it to his memory, etched like an engraving, the delight on Adam’s face and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“He’s gonna be mad as hell,” Adam said. He wasn’t hiding the hiss anymore, and Gansey liked it, the way his tongue worked with his teeth, the way he wasn’t concentrating on his outward appearance. Gansey wanted this Adam all the time. He hoped, prayed, that Adam would start giving him more than stolen glimpses.

“I would further argue,” Gansey said, careful, testing the waters, “that Ronan might find it kind of hot too.”

Adam’s expression did something complicated, but not bad. It didn’t smooth like it did when Adam was walling himself off, and the eye crinkles didn’t disappear. His brows drew together, just slightly, and he gave Gansey a considering once-over. Gansey was very certain that he was pondering the possibility of Adam-and-Gansey-and-Ronan as a new thing, a previously unexplored segment of their constellation. Prior to tonight, Gansey hadn’t thought it was a possibility at all, and the infinite potential paths made him dizzy.

Then Adam smiled and leaned in, brushing his mouth against Gansey’s, the barest touch, careful with his teeth. The feel of fangs against his bottom lip sent a thrill from the top of Gansey’s spine to the tips of his toes. Electricity crackled under his skin.

“I’ve had enough introspection for one night,” Adam whispered, his breath tickling Gansey’s chin and upper lip. “Don’t make it weird, dude.”

He ran his thumb down Gansey’s jaw for no apparent reason other than to watch him shiver. Then he slid his hand down the side of Gansey’s neck, gentle, and hooked his fingers under the collar of Gansey’s pajama shirt to pull it aside.

“I love you,” Gansey told him, which probably wasn’t making it _not_ weird, but needed to be said before the love burnt him to ashes. It was, he reasoned, better to say it before being bitten rather than afterward, so Adam couldn't put it down to endorphins and blood loss.

Adam’s inhale was sharp, close to pained, but Gansey didn’t want to take it back. He would, if Adam shut down and left and refused to take care of himself, but for now, he wasn’t going to regret telling the truth. It wasn’t the first time he’d expressed his love in so many words, but it was the first time he’d done it at a moment that Adam couldn’t brush off.

“It’s okay,” Gansey added, quiet, gentle, repeating his earlier sentiment. “I don’t need you to say it back. I just need you to believe me.”

Adam swallowed, dry and painful enough to be audible. He pulled back and met Gansey’s eyes. Then he nodded.

“It’s okay.” Gansey raised his hand so Adam could see it, questioning even now, especially now. When Adam nodded again, he pushed his fingers through Adam’s hair, catching them on the curls. “It’s okay. I got you.”

He guided Adam down until his face was nestled against Gansey’s neck, his bare shoulder, his on-fire skin. Adam stayed like that for a moment, safe in Gansey’s hands, able to smell him and listen to his heartbeat and trust that some good things didn't have double edges. It was another snapshot to commit to memory, but God knew Gansey hoped for a thousand more exactly the same. Then Adam moved his mouth to Gansey’s shoulder.

Gansey wrapped his other arm around Adam’s waist, an anchor and lifeline for both of them, and Adam bit down.


End file.
